Finding Truth
by Kat J
Summary: Dillon/Georgie


I don't own the characters etc.

Just something that I wrote right after watching. It's in second person and in Dillon's POV.

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You got dressed up, wearing a classy black suit and even a silk tie your mother bought you once when you were in Paris. You checked your hair in the mirror three times making sure every strand was in place. You even convinced yourself that it wasn't for her, that you really were that vain and you just wanted to look okay. You've never been a good liar.

  
  


Then Maxie showed up and told you Georgie's plan. She was going to have sex with Lucas because she thought sex could get her love. Your stomach dropped and your anger burned. Suddenly you felt choked and you used your wit to worm your way out of any depth of feelings. 

  
  


You didn't need Maxie to see that you cared. You didn't need her pity. You turned your eyes a split second too late because she already knew, she already saw how much it did matter. So you went as her date, a pawn in their twisted game. You went because even though you didn't want to, even though it didn't really matter to Georgie, you gave a damn. 

  
  


You told Georgie she looked 'good.' The truth was you could barely find your voice just to say that. It wasn't what you wanted to say. You wanted to tell her the only reason you came was to see her. And now that you had, you were speechless and the only words that you could get out of your mouth were 'you look good.' 

  
  


Then Lucas strutted over to you, hurling accusations and not hearing the rise of anger in your voice when you asked what his intentions were toward Georgie. You're not a particularly violent person. You've had the average amount of pre-puberty playground brawls, but you've never wanted to hit someone as bad as you wanted to hit Lucas right then. 

  
  


You lied to her about Mac. The lie came easy. It slipped off your tongue and held in the air like fog. The lie was the only thing keeping you from hauling her over your shoulder and storming out like some dim-witted barbarian. 

  
  


It was you who wanted to know why she was there. Why couldn't she see that there was someone that would trade places with Lucas in an instant and wouldn't be thinking of someone else? 

  
  


It wasn't about sex. It was about that feeling you get every time you're around her. That flutter that starts in your stomach and works its way outward until your whole body hums. It's the way you look at her when she's really into a book. How you notice she always orders iced tea with lots of ice when she eats french fries, but orders lemonade if she's having pie. You notice the different shades of colour that flow through her hair when she stands in the sun. The flicker or green in her brown eyes when she smiles so big the whole room seems to glow. It's the little things you notice. The things that matter. 

  
  


When you touched her hand, it was like a thousand different sparks of silver light coursing through you. You held onto her a little too long and didn't dare look at her for fear she would see the terror in your eyes. If you had looked at her, she would have seen the desperation and you would have seen nothing. A split second and you caught her eye and you were right. You wish she felt it too. But you're no competition for Lucas.

  
  


Playing it off with a whistle and a snap of fingers is easier than dealing with the reality. The reality that she'll never look at you the way she looks at Lucas...the way you look at her.

  
  


And so you let her walk away. You let her go up to the room she'd booked and see her date and sister in some crazy lip-lock and you knew her heart would be broken.

  
  


When she ran out of the dance, tears streaking down her face, you followed. Afraid she'd do something reckless, afraid you'd do something even more reckless, you stood and waited for her to speak. Letting her berate you because you knew that you deserved it. 

  
  


"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," you say and it sounds empty.

  
  


You don't think you wanted to hurt her, but maybe you did. There was a small voice in the back of your head that knew she would lean on you when she saw the truth. The truth that Lucas didn't really want her, not that way...and that you did. That you want her a thousand different ways. 

  
  


She swipes at her tears and blots away the smoky gray mascara from her eyes with the handkerchief you give her. "Are you happy now that I've been humiliated?"

  
  


"That's not what I wanted. I just wanted you to see the truth."

  
  


"Why?" She asks with more tears springing to her eyes. 

  
  


"Because..." Because you're selfish. Because you're sick of hiding the way you feel. Because you can never reach the pedestal that she's built for Lucas and wanted to tear down the stone structure that doesn't let her see what's right in front of her. You stumble over honesty and lies piled on top of more lies. You can't come up with your own truth. "Because I'm your friend."

  
  


You've never been a good liar, but she believes you. 

  
  
  
  


end.


End file.
